Give Or Take A Metre
I MENTION METRE, (METER) , not the distance I hesitate to say, or should that be stressed, maybe acoustic properties.
GIVE OR TAKE A METRE, John D. Farley© 2009
Me hat’s off, me sleeves are rolled up, and I’m ready for the fray, this poem’s about correctness, critic’s will take bay.
You see, I never wrote a poem, including the Aussie Bushy ones, ones that I cant match.
Until a tragic incident occurred, in my locale, in my backyard, described as bein’ on my patch.
This will be time well spent, so of I went, to write a rhyming poem.
Heart full of sorrow. Who’s words can I borrow, bugger it, the words will be my own.
All about a flooded creek, my first attempt was written.
Many more crappy rhyming verse then followed, Farley’s brain was smitten.
Then based with prior learning, living life if you will. I’ll base me poems on a life of yore, my memories I will fill.
Well you can’t believe how vernacular weaved, in and out this Bushy narrative.
I soon found out, with out a doubt, bends some words use some slang, from Aussie stuff the decretive.
And then down the track, from way outback, from left field the bitter truth rose up and bit me lame.
I read some stuff by a bloke named Ellis, Campbell is his last name.
Beloved Bush poems is his game, my work he puts to shame, shameful, followed by the then some.
It’s the reason why I’m trying hard to do good things, so why am I so bloody winsome.
What an Aussie champ, his writing tips I follow with enjambment, onomatopoeia and metaphors in quick succession.
Problem is, old Aussie mate, my minds to thick to comprehend the science of the mission.
I think I’ve got a handle on rhythm, on caesurae, similes and clichés, and maybe a stanza dream.
Constantly revise me poems, cant get monometer right and have to re-write the rotten theme.
My poems are full of self-procrastination, self-indulgence, me, I, and a little more of self.
But, then 60 years plus, arse out of me duds, so I can’t sit on the shelf.
Our poetry, my regret, is miles and miles apart, you hark from Coolah, so I must give thoughts impart.
My Pommie ancestors settled in the upper Hunter, we might be cousins, now there’s a merry start.
Well sorry Ellis Campbell, if in the cupboard the skeleton resides, and writes.
Maybe you will disown this poet, but I look for your clergy often, my pledge will be to put it right.
And, so with this tongue in cheek analogy, respect to you not with-holden’.
Best wishes from all Bushy Aussies, you bloody beauty, keep the words unfolden’.
John D. Farley© 2009, www.johnfarls.com, www.johnfarlsbrunz.com.
PS: This will be re-written’, edited, and then some.
poem by John D. Farley
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I have tried the Blake poems
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I Wrote A Poem I Could Not Write
I wrote a poem I could not write-
And then when I tried to write it again
Could not write it again -
Poems written and not written
Words and more words
What do they mean?
Paradoxes and games with words
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There Are Days No Poem Can Be Written
THERE ARE DAYS NO POEM CAN BE WRITTEN
There are days no poem can be written
Grief and worry frighten the poem away
Yet the poem lives hidden
For our darkest moments our loneliest fears
Too need their poetry.
Poetry is a way of saying all we need to say
It is our deepest feeling most deeply expressed
It is all we are
The whole of our being
In words.
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Words die
When I will die
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How afraid I am in the night
And how dark in the early morning before I rise
But now that I am here
Writing this
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a few minutes from now
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Thank G-d
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A few small words
help me believe
I truly am alive.
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poem by Shalom Freedman
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All These Poems About Poems
All these poems about poems
Where do they lead?
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Write poems about them.
At twilight I look out
At strangers walking
To do their errands of preparation
for Sukkot.
A poem should have some Beauty in it
And not just be an effort at recording observations-
The scarlet bright flowers rage at me from the distance
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There is so much I have seen
And so much I will never write –
And so many Poems beyond my Imagination.
All these poems about my failing at poetry
And about translating the Beauty of the world to words-
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Poetry Dream.
I drift Yeah ~ ~ ~ ~ drift,
Network at home and abroad to find changed,
Finally came to this piece of land,
This is the poetry of the static earth?
Hoped to write a good poem,
To allow them across the oceans.
They become afraid of heavy stones,
Not sensual in the sink into the sea!
How many years after writing poetry?
This life caught in the areas of poetry,
Poets seem to lose direction.
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Present the most chaotic poetry,
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Unrestricted write a new realm.
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If You Are a Poet
If you are a poet it means so much
as others souls you often touch.
Your own soul you cruelly cut
petting the others with your blood.
To be a poet means to sing of beauty
and it’s the main poet’s duty.
Rhyming the words to tell the truth
and it has to be quite smooth.
To be a poet means to burn with passion,
to treat the others grief with a compassion,
to love the others as yourself,
to hear the voice of kind elf.
To be a poet means to dream,
to tell the world a touching theme,
to speak sincerely and frankly
but not just rhyming poems blankly.
Rhyming words is not the main,
there’s no need to strain your brain.
If your heart has nothing to tell
rhymed words will look like hell.
To be a poet means to write
as if your blood gushes from vein,
to write the rhythm of living breath,
the rhythm of life that seethe.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
30/9 2010
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been
THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN
The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Oh The Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE POEMS AND THE POEMS
Oh the poems and the poems and the poems
Oh the love of Literature
Oh all that stuff
I have given my life to-
Words and meanings and feelings
Pages and pages and pages –
What it is all this literary life for?
When out the window out the door
With our eyes we see in an instant other worlds other dreams?
I don’t know and I will never know
And Literature is certainly far more than I can say it is-
Oh the poems and this poem and this day turning grey
And all my life old and old and more old and more old-
Oh why oh why oh why
And always back to God
My last rescue and refuge and escape
I who have read so much Great Literature
And can only write this-
Oh the why and the oh oh oh and the words
And the whole world of Literature
I would belong to and do not.
Oh the words oh the world oh the Literature
Oh God help me please can’t you please help me a little or not?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Need to Write
I need to write a poem, but how shall I do it,
First of all shall I write standing up, or just sit;
Until I get comfortable, I won't be able to start,
All the words will be muddled up, and then it'll fall. Apart.
Now! I got it right, I will choose the title to write about,
No good getting frustrated, or even sit or pout;
Just need to relax, and then the words will come easy,
Cause if I try to hard, Then my stomach will feel queasy.
I know what sort of holiday would people like,
And as I start the poem, the hall clock did strike;
Oh! It is now is what I can do, write about the time passing,
And so I have the heading, the thoughts on paper lasting.
It's got colour, size, And description, and the taste of art,
It's come from my mind, emotions, and also from the heart;
It has vision, and thoughts about where I want to go,
Yes! I think it'll get some to agree, to me they'll show.
So if you have a problem to write a poem or story,
Just read this poem, as a help, it's a help from me;
Don't force the idea, or rush it through at all,
Just go have a cuppa, read an article or a friend call.
Eventually it'll come, the words will flow along,
You might even end up, turning it into a song;
Writing poems will be rewarding, just give a go,
And you might enjoy it, they may end up in a show.
poem by Margaret Haig
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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem
All I can do now is write another poem-
The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-
Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-
A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-
Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-
But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-
I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-
All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-
Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is No Poem For Me Today
THERE IS NO POEM FOR ME TODAY
There is no poem for me today
There is no poem of yesterday
The poems have gone
And far away
There is no poem
For another day.
There never will be another poem
Poems are gone
Poems are stone.
All the words I will ever write
Are not enough
For a Poem of Life.
The Poems are not
They will never be
I am not a Poem
Nor Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A poem for you...
I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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My Different Poem
I have the feeling that I
Want to write some words that gel;
To put a hidden sentence in, to
Write them very well.
A piece of work, a
Poem all my friends can read and say:
'So this is how you make up
Different poems all the day! '
From all of my experience, all
My knowledge of our tongue, the
Other works were written, but my
Efforts are unsung.
And if my different poem is
Challenging for my brain, I know
For sure it's no-one else but
Me I'll have to blame.
poem by John Carter Brown
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My poems is not Poetry
My Poems are not Poetry
Poetry rhythm is essential part
Communicative act of rhythms
Where words created music
An effect on the reader’s and listener
Words beginning with the same letter
And achieve a poetically effect.
My Poems has no rhythms
For the first time I don’t know
What to say and how to show.
Many words is not my style
Let me say, I like your smile
I don’t think I should like you,
Unfortunately I do.
I'm not sure now how to write
I lost my idea how, where words
Are used in away similar
Creating Music, where you find
Languages of rhymes
I write Prose but not Poetry
Using a regular rhythm
Where vast majority
Of languages spoken and written.
I try to be a barn, the muses were believed and inspire
I try to hard without success,
you already know, I guess.
Anyhow, it doesn’t matter
Usually I do not write
Things like this, I never tried,
for the first time I don’t know
what these lines should say or show.
Allegory, metaphor equated
Meaning lie outside the narrative
Acrostic phase when read together
Alliteration words same letter for poetical effect
Satire is a form of humour
Limerick is a short humorous poem.
And Honestly, I don’t regret
Things I did and words I said.
7. January 2008
poem by Mary Wismer
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The Story Of A Poem
T'other day i wrote a poem
Weren't that much i guess
Had to do so much rhyming
And it all turned out a mess
Then i got meself to thinkin'
What was i trying to do
Was i tryin' to write a poem
Or flushing ma thoughts down the loo?
Y'see i started off this poem
Thinkin' i'd be honest, see
Then this awful bloody rhyming
Sort of got control of me
I wanted to say 'angry'
But 'concerned' just rhymed much better
Then i wanted to say 'email'
But ended up just saying 'letter'
This poetry's confusing
So will someome say to me
Whether i be writing poems
Or just tellin' you 'bout me.
poem by David Keig
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Like So Many Poems I Read
LIKE SO MANY POEMS I READ
Like so many poems I read
These poems I am reading now
Are not poems to me.
They are too detached
Too abstract
Too up in the air.
I want to hear the words
Make a music of feeling
In my soul.
A poem must move me
If it is to be real.
Why then do I write these words
as if a poem?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poems About Poems About Poems
Poems about poems about poems-
More poems and more poems and more poems-
Poems poems poems poems poems-
How many poems?
How much poetry
Until there is no poetry at all?
But only 'words' and 'words' and 'words'
Until one goes far away
Where there was never a poem before-
And suddenly hears
“Let there be Light”.
And Poetry perhaps
Is born again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Why Should I Have A Poem?
WHY SHOULD I HAVE A POEM?
Why should I have a poem?
Who am I to have a poem?
Who is anyone to have a poem?
But then again
Aren’t we all poems?
Many poems
And each one of us many voices
And who knows how deep feelings
We ourselves cannot understand
And lingerings of beauty
We can ourselves barely decipher?
Who knows what a poem is
And what life means
And why we write and read
And what words move us
In the middle of the night
Or at the end of the day
When even our dreams are asleep?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Not a Poem Poem
A Not a Poem Poem
I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!
I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!
Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!
Can I write a poem?
NO!
Will I write a poem?
NO!
Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!
Few Poems Are Remembered
FEW POEMS ARE REMEMBERED
Few poems are remembered -
Few poems are ever really known-
Few poems are chosen -
Few poems make us want to return to them again and again-
Out of thousands written every day
Perhaps one poem in a decade
Perhaps less.
This is not the poem.
One can write a lifetime
Without ever writing one such poem.
Most of us never write the poem
And most of us are not remembered either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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